The Cycle
by neurocase
Summary: Goodbyes are always hard, and Dipper Pines doesn't know how he and his twin sister are going to deal with the summer ending. But what if they don't have to?


Dipper Pines was exhausted, and he wished so desperately that it were only physical. Physical exhaustion he could deal with, as he'd had to so many times over the summer; a hot bath, a good night's sleep, and it was more or less over with.

But Dipper was emotionally exhausted. Goodbyes were always hard, but after everything he'd been through over the last three months, everything he'd seen, having to bid farewell to the people he'd shared it all with in turn, had worn him down. Hugs had been shared, hair had been ruffled, tears had been shed –and subsequently denied in a hurry- and when it was all over, Dipper had climbed onto the waiting bus. The sound of Grenda crying, loud and throaty, as she and Candy waved goodbye to Mabel, getting on behind him, had almost drowned out the one thing that had made it so much harder.

"Hey, doofus, don't forget to write me, okay?"

He'd almost cried again then, as Wendy looked up at him with a sad smile. He knew it would come to nothing but friendship between them, and he was, mostly, at peace with that. But the torch he held for her hadn't been dropped just yet. Not completely. So when the bus rumbled and wheezed, the seat vibrating beneath his knees as he watched out the back window, his gaze lingered on her the longest, silently hoping to whatever or whoever was out there that he and Mabel would be able to return to Gravity falls the following summer. But the bus soon trundled too far, and the slowly dispersing members of their farewell party became nothing but vaguely colored specks. Dipper slid down slightly, turning to flop back in the seat, his gaze cast over now at his sister, Mabel. She wasn't quite in Sweater Town yet, but she looked close, and dourer than he'd ever seen her. He wasn't sure which had been harder on her; having to leave behind Candy and Grenda, or having to leave behind Waddles. Either way, the lingering tears still shimmering in her hazel eyes made his heart ache, and though he reached out to lay a comforting hand on her knee, he'd had to look away. After some twenty minutes or so, the roaring of his mind had dulled to a tired, thrumming buzz, and the rocking and swaying of the bus along the winding mountain roads was enough to lull Dipper into an uneasy sleep. Dreams came to him in snippets, mingling the highlights of his summer with the tremendous lows and dangers he'd faced.

He wasn't sure how long had passed when he woke up, but his mouth was sticky and dry, his eyes stinging with the effort of being freshly greeted with the summer sun through the bus window. An odd noise filled his ears, the sound something he couldn't place with his mind so fogged up. If he could just _focus_…then came the moment of panic, when he realized that something familiar was missing; a weight against his side that had been there for weeks. Something he always carried with him. Where was it? Eyes still half lidded, and mumbling incoherently, Dipper smacked at his chest and sides, trying to find what he was looking for. Something important. A hand reached for his arm to shake his shoulder, rousing him further, the fog slipping from his mind and taking with it the sense of urgency that had so suddenly gripped him. The strange sound suddenly became clearer, and Dipper was able to identify it as Mabel's voice. But what was she saying?

"—up, brobro! Come on, wake UP!" she was grinning as she punched his arm, and something about that seemed odd to Dipper, though he wasn't sure why.

"Mabel..?" he muttered blearily "Why are…why are you smiling?" she gave him a look, but the grin didn't fade as she sat up on her knees, pushing up her cheeks with her fingers.

"I'm always smiling, dummy! You should try it sometime," she contorted her expression into a comically grumpy one "Ooh, I'm Dipper and I'm soooo serious!" the impression gave way to a fit of giggles, and Dipper gave an uneasy smile, his eyes trying to focus, along with his mind. He looked around, taking everything in. Bus. Right. He was on a bus with his sister, Mabel. He was going home, right? No…no, that wasn't it…

Another light punch to his arm turned his attention back to Mabel, who was pointing out the window, bouncing in her seat. "Look, look! There it is! Oooooh, I'm so EXCITED!" she began waving her sleeves around, hands tucked in, out of view "Summer romance, gonna have a summer romance, stayin' with our Grunkle, who likes to wear…NO PANTS!"

At that, Dipper couldn't help but laugh, pulling a grossed out face at the mental image. He was beginning to feel normal again, the odd melancholy that had been gripping him when he awoke letting him go, already seeming like a distant memory. He began to break the situation down mentally, keeping stock of things. "Dipper Pines," he thought, "My name is Dipper Pines. I'm twelve years old. I'm on a bus with my sister, Mabel. We're going to Gravity Falls in the middle of nowhere, Oregon, to stay with our great uncle Stan for the summer. There. Simple. Keep it simple," he looked over at Mabel, who was still singing her nonsense song to herself, the lyrics increasingly ridiculous. She stopped singing when she noticed Dipper looking at her, and tilted her head, the sunlight from outside glinting on her braces.

"What were you looking for anyway?" she asked, a curious, mischievous glint in her eyes. Dipper blinked, confused.

"Looking for?"

"You know, when you were being so cray cray just now. Like this…" Mabel started slapping her chest frantically, making several "duhhh!" noises that Dipper considered completely unnecessary. She giggled, then continued "It looked like you were looking for something. What was it? Ooh! Was it a love letter?" she leaned forward, eyes wide "Eeeeee! You've got a crush at school! You were going to give them a love letter before we left for the summer, but you didn't have the guts! Who is it? Elissa Wale? It IS, isn't it? Come on, show me!" Mabel pounced on Dipper at that, trying to frisk his vest for the supposed letter she'd convinced herself he was hiding. Dipper laughed, trying to fight her off without hurting her too much.

"Mabel! Cut it out! I wasn't looking for anything, I must have just been having some kind of weird dre- OW! Don't bite me, it hurts more with braces!"

"Then tell me the truth, or I bite again! NYAM!"

"OW! MABEL!"

* * *

><p>Some six hundred miles from Gravity Falls, a man sits, hunched over, at his desk. Gnarled, aching fingers turn a piece of yellowed newspaper over, small tears in the edges, the wrinkles adorning it giving away just how many times it's been read. He scans the headline over and over, just as he's done a thousand times, ignoring the creaking sound of the door behind him as it opens. A few soft footsteps break the silence, followed by a gentle voice.<p>

"Oh, no…that old article again?" the woman who entered sighs, feeling a pang when she sees the headline over his shoulder.

"I know, damn it," he snaps, his hearing better than she assumed. Then he sighs, tone more hollow "I know…I just…sometimes I can't help but hope, still…" his neck tenses, and he falls silent, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He looks up at the young woman peering at him, soft brown hair falling over her shoulder. She looks like—no, no. He can't think it. He forces the thought out of his head, and speaks again, trying to sound like he's making a joke.

"Time for the pills again, then, eh?" she just nods, setting down the small, clear container, and the paper cup of water, waiting patiently as the man takes them, shuddering slightly when he pulls the pills down his gullet. She takes the empty pill cup, tossing the paper one, and smiles.

"There you go. I'll be back around with lunch soon."

"Sure."

She quietly slips out, shaking her head as she approaches the trolley, where a dozen or so sets of different pills sit in their assigned cups, waiting to be passed out. White shoes click against tiles, and another woman walks over, older, more stern, clipboard in hand.

"How's he doing?"

"Mr. Pines? He's…well, he's reading that old newspaper article again."

"Of course he is," the other woman grunts "Can't ever pull him away from that mangy little scrap of paper come June."

The first woman frowns, and starts pushing the cart down the hall, the second in tow, perusing her clipboard.

"Can you blame him?"

"It's been thirty years," comes the brusque retort "2012 it happened. He's gotta move on. He mourns his wife less, and she's only been dead for a year."

The first woman sighs softly, shaking her head as she counts off the doors in the hallway, slowing the cart to a stop. She can't get the sadness in the old man's eyes out of her head as she speaks again.

"I don't think your kids just…disappearing is something you ever really "move on" from…"


End file.
